


Play Me

by amairylle



Series: Fantasy Haikyuu Week 2018 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fossegrim!Suga, Humor, M/M, Scandanavian Folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amairylle/pseuds/amairylle
Summary: Day 6 | April 27 | Norse Mythology“I need help," Yaku says. "Do you really teach people how to play the fiddle?”“Better than anyone else in the whole world.” Suga says. “Like wind through the strings, to make trees dance and waterfalls flow backwards.” He grins up at Yaku. “Does that sound like what you’re looking for?”Yaku swallows. “It does.”“Excellent.”





	Play Me

**Author's Note:**

> The [Fossegrim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fossegrim) is a water spirit in Scandanavian folklore. It's said to be a spectacular fiddle player, and will teach you how to play the fiddle inhumanly well in exchange for a food offering.

Suga stretches out in the pool below his waterfall. The early spring sun is warm on his cheeks and the new grass is soft under his head. It’s a perfect afternoon, the first nice day since fall, and Suga’s going to spend it doing absolutely nothing.

A twig snaps in the woods behind him.

Suga sighs and rolls over, propping his head up on one hand. “Hello,” he says, barely smiling. “What can I do for you?”

The offender steps out of the trees. He’s short, with close-cropped strawberry blonde hair. His chin is sharp and his eyes are sharper, and he’s lean and strong. In one hand, he’s got a fiddle in a case, and in the other, a large basket with a red cloth. A customer. “Hello,” he says. “Are you the fossegrim?”

“Indeed I am!” Suga replies, forcing a bit of brightness into his voice; it’s not this boy’s fault Suga didn’t want to be interrupted. Maybe he’ll get a decent meal out of this. “Call me Suga. And you are?”

“Yaku,” he replies, walking over and setting his things down next to Suga. “I need help. Do you really teach people how to play the fiddle?”

“Better than anyone else in the whole world.” Suga says. “Like wind through the strings, to make trees dance and waterfalls flow backwards.” He grins up at Yaku. “Does that sound like what you’re looking for?”

Yaku swallows. “It does.”

“Excellent.” Suga lifts himself out of the water and shakes off. “Let’s see what you brought me, then.”

Yaku stares at Suga, his eyes sliding down Suga’s naked body. “Uh,” he says, cheeks turning sunset-red. “You’re naked.”

Suga rolls his eyes. “I’m a river spirit,” he says. “Besides, I lay around in a river all day. Swimming in wet clothes is terrible. Try not to let it distract you.” He plops down on a rock and holds out his hands. “What have you brought me?” he repeats.

Yaku lifts the basket and flips up a corner of the cloth. Inside, there’s a hank of roast meat. Suga leans over to inspect it. “Is it good enough?” Yaku asks.

Suga hums, tapping his chin with a finger. “Looks a little dry.” He takes a whiff, but the meat’s gone cold enough that he can’t tell much from its fragrance. What little he can smell is unimpressive. “You didn’t use much in the way of seasoning, did you?”

Yaku turns away. “I did my best,” he grumbles. “Will you help me?”

“Maybe,” Suga replies, crossing his arms. “What’s this for?”

Yaku sighs and starts to pace. “There’s a girl,” he starts.

Suga runs his eyes down and back up Yaku’s body. “Pity,” he mumbles.

Yaku doesn’t hear. “She lives in the next town over,” he continues. “And she’s very pretty, and very rich, and very in love with me.” He presses his lips together, obviously choosing his words. “It would be advantageous for both our families if we got married.” He’s gesticulating as he walks, counting her vague attributes on his fingers. “But her parents aren’t quite sold on the whole deal, so I thought I could impress them with a bit of music.” He stops, turning on his heel to point at Suga. “So I came to you. I can play a little fiddle, but nothing like you. Will you teach me?”

“Only if you love her as much as she loves you.” Suga raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Huh?” Yaku blinks at him.

“You said that she’s very much in love with you, and that this would be—what was the word? _Advantageous_ for both your families.” Suga points at Yaku. “But _you_ don’t sound into this at all. Do you love her just as much?”

“She’s pretty and rich.” Yaku shrugs. “What’s not to like?”

Suga narrows his eyes and grimaces. Shallow, prideful, and entitled. Disgusting. “Well,” he says, pasting a smile back on his face. “I think I can help you.” He throws some magic into his voice, making sure to keep Yaku in his thrall. “Let’s see your fiddle.”

Yaku grins and rushes to unpack the fiddle. “Thank you so much!”

“My pleasure,” says Suga, a wicked grin on his face. “Now hold it up, let’s begin.”

* * *

 

Suga does not expect to see Yaku again. The boy ran home to his date with humiliation so quickly that he didn’t even say goodbye, leaving Suga to eat his overcooked and under-salted meal in peace. If Yaku’s lucky, maybe he got to marry the girl, but Suga wouldn’t count on it. He snickers as he pictures what went down. He has at six delightfully entertaining possibilities.

But Yaku shows up the next week, again with the fiddle and a much larger basket. Suga braces himself, hiding in the middle of his river, where the current is fastest and the water is deepest, so Yaku will sooner drown than exact his vengeance. “How’d it go?” he calls.

Yaku throws his head back and cackles. “It went perfectly!” he yells.

It what? Suga swims a little closer. “What do you mean, ‘perfectly?’” he asks.

Yaku laughs again. “I played exactly like you taught me.” He sets down his things by Suga’s favorite rock. “Come closer, I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Suga frowns. “I taught you to tune your fiddle.”

“I know!” Yaku beckons Suga over. “Come closer, I don’t like shouting.”

Suga swims as close as he dares, draping himself over a log that’s near enough for conversation, but far enough that Yaku still can’t reach him. “Go on,” he says.

Yaku marches over the the edge of the water and sits down cross-legged, directly in front of Suga. “I like men,” he says.

Suga starts. “You what?” he squeaks.

“I like men,” Yaku repeats. “And my family isn’t poor, but when the daughter of a major trading family asked to marry me, my father decided that it would be too _advantageous_ to say no.” He crosses his arms and snickers. “I’m a fiddle player of decent renown, but my father thought my playing could you something a little extra. Something a fossegrim has, for example.”

Suga’s eyes go wide and his jaw slowly drops as Yaku speaks. “Then, the crappy meat—”

“Made it myself,” Yaku says, smirking. “I think it’s some of my worst work in the kitchen.”

“And your attitude?”

“I didn’t actually want you to teach me!” Yaku clutches his sides and laughs. “I just wanted enough that I could get up in front of the traders and the girl and play exactly like the fossegrim taught me, and not be lying!” he forces the words out in between wheezes. “You should’ve seen their faces!”

Suga stares at him, jaw completely slack, as the scene slowly comes together in his mind’s eye. Yaku, in front of all these important people, proclaiming that he knows how to play like wind and water, as well as a fossegrim, only lift up his fiddle and _tune it._ The first laugh falls out of Suga like a raindrop, but more follow, and soon he’s clinging to the log, shaking the water around him. “They didn’t take it well?” he manages.

Yaku takes a moment to get his breath back. “I played some of my own music after, but given that I ‘got tricked’ by a fossegrim means that I’m either rude or a terrible cook, and they decided that I wasn’t allowed into their family.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “And I think my father learned a lesson about making me do things I don’t want to do.”

“Wow,” Suga says.

“Anyway,” Yaku says, “I really should thank you. You were instrumental to my plan.” He hops up and brings the basket to the edge of the water, laying out eggs, mustard sauce, walnut bread, and a perfectly cooked leg of lamb on a cloth on the riverbank. “I brought you good food this time.”

Suga abandons his log and swims over to the feast, his mouth watering. He takes a bite of the lamb and moans. It’s rare and moist and perfectly seasoned. “I’d teach you to play fiddle for this,” he says. He’d do a good deal more than that, especially now that Yaku’s revealed his his true preferences, but fiddle lessons are probably a good place to start.

Yaku lets out a giggle. He stands there for a minute, watching Suga eat, a light blush high on his cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, “But I think I can impress you without it.”

Suga’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth. “Oh?” he says.

“Yeah.” Yaku unpacks his fiddle, running fond fingers over the curves of the wood. “I think I can impress you without it.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Suga says, with a smirk.

Yaku raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that challenge.” He raises the fiddle to his shoulder, and begins to play.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/amairylle) or [Tumblr!](https://amairylle.tumblr.com)


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